


MacCready and the Mad Bastard

by RageQueen89



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Blood and Gore, Climbing, Companions Trying to Help, Cuddling & Snuggling, Eating Disorder, Eventual Romance, Explosions, Fever, Food Bets, GERD - Freeform, JunkJet, Kissing, M/M, MacCready Likes SS's Hands, Male Sole Survivor - Freeform, Mentions of radiation, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Not Really But MacCready Thinks It Is, Nuka Cola, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pranks, Profanity, Robert Joseph MacCready - Freeform, Robot Racing, Stay in bed dammit, The Big Dig, Tinkering, Violence, feral ghouls
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-08 09:40:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5492570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RageQueen89/pseuds/RageQueen89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tale of Robert Joseph MacCready and his adventures with the Sole Survivor. Written as a series of one-shots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Oh, no...

**Author's Note:**

> I have been playing Fallout 4 and Ash has been bugging me to write. This was finished at one in the morning. My apologies if MacCready seems a bit off, or if the writing itself is a bit choppy. I may come back and edit later.
> 
> I don't own Fallout 4 or any of the characters within.

When a man in a blue Vault suit had walked into the back room at The Third Rail, MacCready hadn't expected too much. He was wearing mismatched armor over his vault suit, and there was a metal helmet on his head. A pair of welding goggles hid his eyes from view, and he was covered in dirt, grease, and stains that MacCready was pretty sure were blood. Sure, he was an odd-looking man, but MacCready had seen stranger things. Super mutants alone were more weird-looking than a too-skinny drifter in a Vault suit.

  
The Vaultie, a man named Ash, was smallish and skinny. He must have weighed a hundred pounds sopping wet, and he couldn't have been taller than 5'6”. Guy that size alone in the Commonwealth? Of course he needed backup. MacCready hadn't asked many questions. He needed the caps, after all. The Vaultie had paid and off they had gone.

  
It didn't long for him to realize that there was more to Ash than he had first thought. He leaned two things very quickly: Ash was a snarky little bastard, and Ash was a sneaky little bastard. MacCready discovered this while they were traveling towards the remains of an overpass near Goodneighbor. Ash was walking ahead of him. MacCready took half of a second to check behind them, scanning the caved-in wrecks for anyone looking to put a bullet in their skulls. When he looked back to his front, Ash had vanished.

  
MacCready looked around in alarm. Where had he gone? Had Ash ducked into some alcove and MacCready had just missed it? No, he couldn't have. There was nothing for him to duck into aside from the cars and MacCready could see into them. Ash wasn't there... the rubble nearest them wasn't large enough to hide Ash's form no matter how small he was. Everything that was big enough was too far away for Ash to have gotten to so quickly... He couldn't have been killed, not so quickly and quietly and without any kind of trace. Well, if he had, MacCready's reputation was going to take a dive. What kind of merc didn't notice when his employer got offed right behind him?

  
Well, if he hadn't ducked behind something and he hadn't been killed, where had he gone? Had he... maybe decided to terminate MacCready's employ? If so, why run off without saying anything? Why not just tell him and go their separate ways? MacCready had already gotten paid, after all, so why bother with hiding?

  
“Mac!” The harsh whisper interrupted his thoughts. MacCready looked around a touch wildly. “Up here!” Obediently, MacCready's head jerked up. Sure enough, a skinny form in a blue jump suit was _scaling_ the side of the overpass. MacCready opened his mouth to demand an explanation when Ash half turned and hissed, “Shh!”

  
It was then that MacCready saw the raiders skulking on the overpass above them. MacCready immediately crouched and took cover behind a rusty car. He positioned himself and took aim with his rifle. Through the scope, MacCready watched as Ash continued to climb, pulling himself farther and farther up from the ground. MacCready grew more nervous with every foot. Rationally, he knew that the overpass was only about thirty to forty feet high. If Ash fell, he would be fine. That didn't mean watching him skitter his way up wasn't nerve-wracking as hell.People could survive a fall from that height, right? Maybe even a scrawny little prick like Ash wouldn't be reduced to mush. Especially if he didn't land on his head...

  
Finally, Ash was just below the raiders, clinging to the cement like a fly. He planted himself, then made a 'wait' motion with one of his hands. “Don't let go, you moron!” MacCready growled. A raider came to a stop just above him. Faster than anyone could blink, Ash had reached up and seized the raider's belt. He hauled the man over the edge and let him drop. The raider shrieked as he plummeted to the ground. There was a sickening thud as the man hit the pavement. Blood arced ten feet into the air with the force. Evidently it wasn't possible for someone to survive a fall like that when they landed face-first.

  
Above, Ash launched himself into motion. He slithered over the side of the overpass and charged at one of the other raiders. MacCready zeroed in on a third, aimed, and fired. The psycho woman's head exploded in a shower of gore. A fourth raider leaped at Ash, and MacCready followed his motion. Ash's baseball bat met the man's head an instant before MacCready put a bullet in his back. The raider fell and moved no more.

  
The whole exchange had taken perhaps ten seconds. If that. “Nice shooting!” Ash called down to him. MacCready looked back at Ash. His mouth almost dropped open. Ash leaned on the edge of the highway and grinned down at him. His posture was casual, as if he hadn't just climbed up three stories of highway and killed four people in the blink of an eye. As if the occurrence were perfectly normal.

  
“What the fu-” He caught himself before the word slipped out, “heck were you doing?!”

  
“I was trying to get a better angle,” Ash answered. “It would have been hard as hell to kill the raiders from down below. If you haven't guessed, baseball bat is not a great long-distance weapon.” He swung first one leg over the railing, then the other, and began to pick his way back down.

  
“You're going to get yourself killed!” MacCready called up. “You're going to fall and die and I'm not carrying your skinny ass back to Goodneighbor!”

  
“Calm your tits, Mac,” Ash drawled. He swiftly navigated back down the overpass the same way he had climbed up. “This thing is barely forty feet tall and you aren't even shooting at me! It's a cakewalk." Ash reached a point just over ten feet above the ground before dropping back to the ground. He landed lightly on his feet, then turned to loot the body of the raider that hadn't been so lucky.

  
“Where the heck were you climbing crap like that with someone shooting at you?” MacCready wanted to know. “Must not have been very good if you're still alive.” If he had wanted to, MacCready could have shot Ash off the side of that thing with ease...

  
“Climbing's easy,” Ash replied. “I climbed stuff even before I was in the military, y'know, before everything went to shit. Once the government got their hands on me, I got better at it. Climbing is a useful skill to have when you're the scout in your unit.”

  
MacCready scowled at Ash. The bastard was mad. Entirely mad. Worse, his logic made sense. MacCready grit his teeth and bit back a growl. “Give me a heads up before you go doing something like that again,” he ordered. “I can't watch your back if I don't know where it's gone.”

  
“Aww, Mac,” Ash crooned, smirking at him. “Where's the fun in that?”


	2. Eating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MacCready notices that Ash's eating habits are a bit... odd.

MacCready stayed in Ash's employ for a couple of weeks after their initial meeting. They wandered the Commonwealth, doing whatever struck Ash's fancy. Which was actually more than just wandering. Ash was apparently the damned _general_ of the Minutemen. So they left Sanctuary and went to help this settlement or that settlement, and then wandered back home. MacCready became acquainted with the little town and its residents, which included Preston, a Minuteman, Curie, a medical version of the Mr. Handy robot, Piper, a reporter who wanted to know everything about everyone, and Codsworth, Ash's robot butler. The fact that there was a robot butler made MacCready snicker.

In the time he had known Ash, MacCready learned more and more about him. He learned that Ash's sense of humor was dry and somewhat dark. "I like my humor like I like my coffee; black and surrounded by corpses!" Ash enjoyed efficiency, and he _hated_ politics and mind games, so he tended to take the most straight-forward route available to him whenever he could. If that meant stealing what he needed, breaking into somewhere, or threatening someone, then so be it. MacCready gathered that Ash was absolutely crap with people. He spoke too plainly, had very little verbal filter, and was kind of an ass without meaning to be. He was never malicious with his actions; he simply had better things to do than puzzle out what someone wanted from him. If people told him what they needed in six words or less, Ash was satisfied, though he could usually press a few more caps out of anyone offering a job.

All in all, MacCready rather liked Ash.

Aside from being snarky and sneaky, Ash was much, _much_ stronger than he looked. His favorite weapon was a baseball bat with a saw blade fixed to the end of it. The damn thing even had a name; Betty. When MacCready asked for the reasoning behind the name, Ash had just shrugged and said, “Mirabelle and Bianca were taken,” as if that made any kind of sense.

The first time MacCready had really seen Ash display his real strength, it had been facing down a Super Mutant. MacCready had thought for sure that Ash was a goner. The Super Mutant was two feet taller than Ash and at least a hundred pounds heavier. Ash, however, had simply planted his feet and swung with Betty. The Super Mutant's head had been ripped from its shoulders. “HOME RUN!” Ash bellowed, throwing his arms into the air in triumph. A casual kick had sent the headless body tumbling away from him before he victory danced his way to cover.

MacCready, for his part, could only stare. He wasn't sure if he were terrified or turned on.

He settled for somewhere in the middle.

MacCready also noticed things, like how the welding goggles never came off. Ash even wore them when he was sleeping. He also didn't seem to sleep very much, or very well, for that matter. He was plagued by nightmares or insomnia or something. Any time he laid down, he was only out for an hour or two before he started tossing and turning. He had even called out for someone named 'Azrael,' at one point. He never said anything about it, and MacCready didn't ask. Whatever demons Ash had chasing him, they were none of MacCready's business. Ash would work it out in his own time.

One thing he noticed that actually made him worry a little bit was that Ash never seemed to eat. MacCready had seen him drink countless bottles of water, both purified and not, but he had never seen Ash take more than a bite or two of anything. It didn't make much sense; Ash hoarded whatever food they found, but most of it seemed to make its way to the settlers or to caravans or shops. MacCready got a ton of it, too, which he certainly wasn't complaining about, but Ash never seemed to keep any for himself.

He watched more carefully, after that. He also tried his best to make sure Ash got enough to eat. He offered the man bits of whatever it was he was eating whenever they stopped, but Ash always waved him off. The excuses were along the lines of “I'm not hungry,” or, “I ate earlier.” MacCready wasn't convinced, though. He watched, and if what he saw was correct, Ash sometimes didn't eat for days...

His hunch was confirmed a little while later as they returned to Sanctuary. Ash was tinkering with one of the turrets that was malfunctioning. He and MacCready dragged it away from the bridge and to Ash's workshop. Ash had simply removed his helmet (the goggles stayed on), rolled up his sleeves, and gone to work. Soon, he was covered in his own sweat and grease from the turret. MacCready, curious, had stayed to watch, munching on a pack of Fancy Lad snack cakes as he did.

A woman in a red coat and newsboy cap stalked up to them. Piper, Ash's reporter friend. MacCready had met her a few times before. He liked her well enough, even if she was a bit nosy. 

“Have you eaten, today?” Piper demanded in lieu of greeting.

“Nice to see you, too, Piper,” Ash deadpanned.

“Yes, hello,” Piper replied. “Don't avoid my question. Have you eaten, today?”

Ash made a face. “Define 'today,'” he said.

Pipe let out a frustrated sigh. “You need to eat, Blue!” she nagged.

“I'm fine, Piper,” Ash growled. He hunched over the turret, ducking his head.

“You're too skinny,” Piper argued. “It's not a healthy kind of skinny, either, and the only way you fix that is by eating!”

Ash's mouth twisted in annoyance. He reached over and plucked the Fancy Lad snack cake from MacCready's fingers. MacCready barely had time to splutter in indignation before Ash had taken a bite of it.

“There,” he snapped through his mouth of food. “I'm eating. You happy, now?”

Piper glared at him, then shook her head. She turned to MacCready. “Make sure he finishes that,” she ordered. With that, she turned and stalked off. As soon as she was out of sight, Ash turned and spat the snack cake out. He handed the rest back to MacCready.

“You can have that back,” he said.

“Oh, can I?” MacCready snorted. “I can have that back after you've bitten off it? Thank you!”

“Fuck off," Ash muttered. MacCready just laughed and handed the snack cake back to him. Ash turned his head in MacCready's direction. MacCready couldn't see Ash's eyes behind his goggles, but the set of his mouth indicated that he was glaring.

"What?" MacCready began. "She's right. Eating is healthy!" Ash made a disgusted noise and hunched his shoulders around his ears. MacCready stared at him, studying. There were various reasons people wouldn't eat. The one that came to mind first was the fear of getting fat, which MacCready thought was called anorexic. MacCready had known a few people like that: the ones that worried over their weight and refused to eat more than once a day, who got so thin they resembled feral ghouls more than humans... he looked up, trying not to imagine Ash's face gaunt and slack like a feral's. 

"Are you worried you'll get fat?" MacCready asked, his voice level.

"It's not about getting fat," Ash snapped. "I'm ninety pounds sopping wet! I'm not worried I'll get fat." His face softened a bit. "I just... I don't like how the food feels when I eat it. It's... it just sits in my stomach and it feels...  _heavy_." He made another face. "It makes me feel sick. It burns and it's uncomfortable and I just... don't like it." He hitched his shoulders up higher around his ears. Any further and it might just disappear entirely.

MacCready considered that. There wasn't much that could be done about that aside from drag Ash to a doctor. There were a few that wandered the Commonwealth, but who knew when they might show up? There was also no guarantee that the doctor would be able to fix whatever Ash had. Whatever it was, though, it didn't sound like something that was hurting him too much. Sometimes, with things like this, all you could do was grit your teeth and bear it...

He shook the snack cake in Ash's direction again. "C'mon," he teased. "Eat the snack cake and I'll leave you be."

"You're a damned menace, Mac," Ash groaned. His shoulders relaxed, though, and his hunch became less defensive. MacCready waggled the snack cake at him, again. Ash sighed and ran one greasy hand through his hair. Eventually, he took it. He bit into it, chewed, and swallowed. A few bites later, the snack cake was gone. "There. Satisfied?"

MacCready grinned. He nodded and sat back. Ash grumbled and picked up a screwdriver.

"This is not going to be a regular thing," Ash warned, pointing the tool at him.

"Oh, yes it is," MacCready chuckled. Ash just groaned again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ash isn't anorexic; he has Gastroesophageal Reflux Disease (GERD). He would normally deal with it with medication, but I have yet to find any evidence of Prilosec in the Commonwealth.
> 
> To find out more about it, check out this link:  
> http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/gerd/basics/definition/con-20025201


	3. Junk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tinkering, turrets, and MacCready gets a little caught up by Ash's hands.

MacCready thought Ash might not be entirely sane. Or perhaps he had a penchant for nostalgia. The man insisted on picking up every scrap of old world tech they came across. Duct tape, wonderglue, fans, circuit boards, used oil cans, lighters, glass bottles, and even frickin' _teddy bears_ all made it into Ash's pack. MacCready himself had never put much stock in scavenging old world things. They were old world. They were almost useless in this new world. The ancient desk fans didn't blow air properly, anymore; there were no flowers to put in the vases; duct tape just couldn't fix everything that was wrong, anymore.

But apparently nobody had told Ash that. The mad bastard picked up _everything_. Sometimes, the excess Ash couldn't carry spilled over into MacCready's pack, which he was not a fan of. Every time it happened, he grumbled and complained. Ash didn't seem to take much notice. Or, if he did, he didn't care.

Their latest run had them at Hangman's Alley, one of the places under the protection of the Minutemen. MacCready liked Hangman's Alley. Sure, it was in the middle of Boston and generally surrounded by Super Mutants or raider groups, but it was a cozy little place. According to Preston, Ash had violently evicted its previous tenants and torn down all the buildings within. He and Preston had then rebuilt everything from the ground up. Rebuilding somehow meant that Ash dragged every piece of trash they came across with them to the little settlement.

“What's the point of picking up all this junk, anyway?” MacCready finally asked one afternoon. They had just unloaded both their packs. MacCready was sitting near Ash's workbench with a well-earned bottle of Nuka Cola and a cigarette.

Ash just spluttered indignantly. “Junk?” he demanded. “Junk?!”

“Junk,” MacCready repeated. “It's useless. Trash. So I ask again, what is the point of picking it all up and hauling it along with us?” Ash acted like he had called his mother a whore. He dug through the junk and pulled out a desk fan.

“What is this?” Ash asked him.

“A fan,” MacCready deadpanned. Ash somehow managed to give him a look that communicated just how stupid he thought that answer was. Hell, the goggles just added to the expression. MacCready wondered if maybe he was spending too much time with Ash if he could tell what the expression was around the goggles...

“It's _pieces_ ,” Ash corrected. “Parts. Screws and gears and metal, all of which can be taken apart to be made into something else.” He rummaged around in the pack and pulled out a lighter and a circuit board. He set them next to the fan, then waved a hand over them. “With these things, I can make a basic turret.”

MacCready stared at him, then glanced down at the junk. He narrowed his eyes. “Bullshi- crap,” he claimed.

“No bullshit,” Ash promised. “If I can't, I'll cook the iguana you caught earlier.”

MacCready thought about that. Cooking the iguana was not something he was worried about. He could cook the damn iguana just fine. But he remembered Piper nagging at Ash to eat before they left...

MacCready had discovered that Ash had some very creative ways to keep from eating, even when food was forced upon him. Dogmeat had gotten a fair share of it, and what Dogmeat didn't get Ash would put places. Food ended up hidden in the vegetable patch, stuck to the undersides of tables or chairs, tucked into tool boxes and cabinets, and who knew where else. While on the road, MacCready had found food in Ash's pockets, up his sleeves, hell even in his _shoes_ once. As such, both Piper and MacCready had taken to watching him eat something -actually chew and swallow it- before they believed that he had actually eaten it.

“If I win, you cook it, _and_ you eat half of it,” he wagered.

Ash's face twisted in disgust. “A fourth and half a mutfruit,” he countered.

MacCready considered that for a second, eyes narrowing. “Somethin' wrong with the iguana?” he wanted to know.

Ash just shook his head, hunching his shoulders a bit. He did that when he was uncomfortable. “Stomach doesn't like meat,” he answered. “Mutfruit goes down easier.”

MacCready considered that. More iguana for him, and Ash still ate. He could tell Piper that he had tried to feed Ash and _not_ be lying about it. Plus, he could definitely eat the other half of the mutfruit without fighting Ash for it. He finally nodded. “You got a deal,” he said decisively.

“And if I win, you don't nag for a week,” Ash continued.

“Hell no. A day,” MacCready shot back.

“Two days,” Ash insisted.

MacCready rolled his eyes, but nodded. Ash grinned. This grin was sly, like he was about to con someone out of all their caps, and MacCready had a feeling that he may have just been played...

Ash set to work, stripping the junk into bits and pieces. MacCready just watched. Slowly, but surely, a turret began to take shape. As the work went on, MacCready grew more and more certain that he was going to lose the bet that he made. Despite that, he was fascinated by the process. Sure, he had watched Ash fix things, before, but he had never seen him actually put something together from scratch. He wasn't able to keep himself from staring at Ash's hands; his fingers were long and spindly like a spider's legs, palms rough and callused from labor and combat. Ash's hands were clever and steady, shaping the pieces into the larger whole with obvious care and skill.

He had to admit that Ash had nice hands. He wondered what they felt like on his skin, or how it would feel to have them curled around his own. Or maybe what they would feel like gripping his shoulders or digging into his arms or hips-

“Ta da!” Ash exclaimed, waggling his hands at the turret. MacCready blinked and came back to himself. In front of Ash was a turret. The motor was whirring softly. MacCready set his jaw and scrutinized the turret for a few seconds before realizing that yes, he had lost the bet. Ash had, with a couple of pieces of junk, created a turret.

Well... crap.

“Well, crap. Fine! You win.”

Ash grinned excitedly and began to wiggle his body back and forth in his customary victory dance. MacCready just glared at him.

“No nagging for two days!” Ash sang.

“Yeah, yeah,” MacCready sighed. “How'd you learn to do that? And with scrap bits?”

Ash just shrugged. “Tinkering's easy,” he replied. “All you need is a bit of curiosity and steady hands.” He held them out, palm up, as if showing MacCready exactly what he meant. MacCready's mind automatically shot back to his earlier thoughts and suddenly he had to look away. Oh, hell, please let Ash not have noticed. Please let those stupid goggles throw off color perception enough that Ash hadn't noticed anyth-

“Mac?” Ash asked. “Are you... _blushing_?”

Crap.


	4. Boom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Explosions make everything better. Everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the entire reason I started writing this fic. It is my favorite. Enjoy!

One thing MacCready didn't like about following after Ash was just how much do-gooder crap they did. He supposed it made sense; Ash was the General of the Minutemen, after all. But MacCready didn't like how much they were asked to do. And for _free,_ no less! Ash didn't seem to mind the lack of caps, though. The man seemed more interested in picking through whatever was left after what or whomever they had been sent after was dead. The junk he found usually ended up being used to better fortify whatever settlement had asked for help.

This particular settlement had them heading for a place called Easy City Downs. It was a raider den, apparently. As far as the settlers had said, there was nothing special about it. So off they went. As they drew closer to their destination, MacCready began to hear... things. They weren't the normal sounds of the wasteland. It sounded like... was that a trumpet? As they drew closer, MacCready was able to pick up an amplified voice giving some kind of commentary. Soon, they came to what appeared to be a dirt track. Both Ash and MacCready stopped at the base of a wall, crouching as the trumpet and commentary got louder.

“Ol' Rusty's as steady as ever!” came the voice. “Let's give 'em a hand!” Suddenly, a group of Mr. Handy robots came barreling around the corner, led by an eyebot. An Assaultron ran beside the pack, keeping pace. MacCready's mouth dropped open in surprise.

“It's a racetrack,” Ash murmured. A gleeful grin transformed the lower half of Ash's face into something childlike. “A _robot_ racetrack!” MacCready swore the man was bouncing up and down. “Wait here a tick. I have _got_ to see this!” Ash stepped into a shadow at the base of the wall they were hiding behind and seemed to melt into the shadows. A moment later, he was gone. MacCready sighed in irritation and hunkered down to wait.

He didn't have to wait long; Ash hadn't been gone more than a few minutes before he materialized in the exact same spot he had disappeared into.

“I couldn't get close enough to see much,” he reported. “Seven or eight raiders. Five or so triggermen. At least two turrets. And then there are the robots.” The excited smile was back. “There's the group of Mr. Handy robots and the Assaultron. And one eyebot that's playing the bugle.”

“Is that the trumpet?” MacCready asked.

“It's a bugle,” Ash corrected.

“The hell's...” MacCready caught himself. “Heck's the difference?”

“I dunno,” Ash replied with a shrug. “My sister was the band geek, not me.” He jerked his head to their left. “There's some kind of storage building on this side. Let's check that out, first.”

The two of them made their way around the edge of the track. The door was locked, but that barely slowed Ash down. All it took was a bobby pin and a twist of his wrist. The door swung open with a squeak. MacCready winced at the sound and looked around to see if anyone had heard. All eyes were on the race, though. Thank god for that damned trumpet call...

The building didn't have much in it. One corner held a bunch of boxes. Another had some kind of a workbench. There was a raised platform in the middle where a bunch of important-looking equipment sat.

“How much do you think we could mess up if we tinkered with some of this?” MacCready wondered aloud. It seemed that Ash had had the same idea. The man made a beeline for a terminal on the table. Soon, his fingers were flying over the keyboard with impossible speed. As Ash worked, MacCready made his way through the rest of the building. Most of what he found was junk that he just knew Ash would want to dig through, as well as a couple of inactive robots in their stations. MacCready swore that their eyes were following him, despite their dormant state...

“You find anything useful, or are you just wasting our time?” MacCready demanded over his shoulder. Ash was still plugging away at the keyboard. A slow, toothy grin spread across his face. MacCready immediately tensed. He knew that grin...

Over the course of their travels, he had learned what Ash's smiles meant. The first and most common was the smile from earlier. It appeared when Ash was excited: when he found some gizmo or another in the wastes, or got to geeking out with Tinker Tom over who the hell knew what. Despite not understanding Ash's hobbies, MacCready enjoyed seeing that smile...

This smile, though? Oh, no. This smile was all teeth; manic, predatory, half feral. It meant bad things were going to happen. And not necessarily just to the raiders.

MacCready couldn't see Ash's eyes behind his goggles, but he swore he could feel when they flicked to him. “Hang onto your hat, Mac,” Ash told him. There was a beep from the console. MacCready heard the movement of robotic limbs behind him and whirled around. The Assaultron and Mr. Handy that had been “sleeping” at their stations were moving. MacCready held very still, as if he could hide from them by doing so. Oddly enough, the robots ignored him and Ash entirely. They moved out the door and around to the track. Outside, cries of alarm went up from the raiders.

“What'd you do?” MacCready hissed.

“I turned off their combat inhibitors and scrambled their targeting systems,” Ash replied. The man tugged Betty from his back. Outside, cries of shock and alarm began filtered through the bugle tune. “Let's go watch!”

“What?!” MacCready spluttered. Ash didn't answer. He bounded out of the storage shack and disappeared. “Seriously?!” MacCready bit back a string of curses and followed Ash outside.

The track was in chaos. Robots and raiders darted about, guns and lasers firing wildly. The screams of panicked raiders, the crackling of gunfire, clashing metal, and the whir of laser pistols all combined to create a horrible cacophony. Through it all that damned trumpet tune could still be heard. MacCready began to pick off raiders as they appeared. Three of them fell before anyone realized he was there. Suddenly, he was being shot at. He had to dive behind a shack wall to avoid being filled with bullets. As the shooting halted, MacCready bolted out again, firing as he went.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of blue. When he turned to look, he saw Ash at yet another terminal. There was a turret was on the building above him. What the hell was that idiot doing?!

“Mac! Duck!” Ash suddenly bellowed. MacCready dove behind the nearest object that could be considered cover. His arms clamped over his head. An instant later, a series of explosions rocked the shack village. Flames erupted all around him. Raiders screamed as they died. MacCready clenched his eyes shut against the brightness and tucked his arms around his ears to block out the noise. What felt like minutes passed, but eventually, the explosions ceased. Metal banged to the ground, and the fires roared on around him, but nothing moved.

MacCready looked up, searching for Ash amidst the debris. Where was he? Was he okay? Was he even alive? “Ash!” he yelled, getting to his feet. A second later, a familiar head popped up from behind a table. That friggin' helmet hadn't even come off. Ash still had that insane grin on his face, though now it was tinged with exhilaration.

“That was awesome!” the man crowed, arms flinging into the air. He collapsed backwards, cackling madly.

MacCready stalked over to him. Ash was still laughing, arms wrapped around his scrawny self. He seemed wholly unconcerned with the fact that he was surrounded by fire and corpses, or that MacCready was standing over him, glaring angrily.

“What did you _do_?!” MacCready wanted to know.

“I found the self-destruct command on the terminal,” Ash laughed. “I wanted to see how much of the track I could blow up.”

MacCready felt his jaw drop. What he was hearing was that Ash had initiated self-destruction of all the robots, not knowing if they would be survive the blast. And Ash had done it anyway.

“Are you insane?!” MacCready demanded.

“Probably,” Ash conceded.

“What were you thinking?!” MacCready roared. “You could have kill both of us!”

Ash pushed himself up onto his elbows. “Could have, but I didn't,” he countered. “Plus, this way I killed all of the raiders _and_ the robots.” He let himself flop back to the dirt. “Explosions make everything better.”

MacCready shoved a hand into his hair, growling in frustration. A second later, he allowed his shoulders to slump. It couldn't be changed now, he thought, so being angry about it wouldn't do anything.

“At least that stupid trumpet quit,” MacCready sighed.

“It's a bugle,” Ash replied immediately.

“Whatever!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who are curious, a trumpet has valves that aid the player's embouchure (lip control) in changing the note. A bugle has no valves, so all pitch control is done with the player's embouchure.


	5. Names

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wait, what do you mean Ash's name isn't Ash?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long... it just didn't want to be written. I'm still not entirely happy with it.

“Stupid mutants...” MacCready grumbled. He kicked one of the dead bodies to the side. Preston had sent them to deal with yet another settlement's problems, and this one had been super mutants. Thankfully, luck had been with them. Ash had been able to sneak into the building and shank a couple before leading them outside for MacCready to pick off. All in all, not bad for a den of giant mutant monsters.

The super mutants had been holed up in some old outpost or another. Ash immediately began checking the computer terminal. With nothing else to do, MacCready set to stripping the super mutant they had murdered on their way in. Nothing much; some bullets and a hunk of radroach meat. When MacCready turned back to Ash, his friend had a look on his face like he had smelled something foul. Well, super mutants stank to high heaven, but MacCready had a thought that Ash wasn't making the face for them... Ash only made that face when he found something he didn't like.

“What's that face for?” MacCready asked. He maneuvered himself so he could see around the screen. A quick look showed a basic memo. Apparently, some war hero had been scheduled to give a speech. The date on it was pre-war, like most of the information on terminals tended to be.

“Sounds like this guy was kind of a big deal,” MacCready commented. “Must have been for him to be wanted for several speeches, right?" Ash just grunted. MacCready narrowed his eyes, considering. Ash had been a soldier before the world had gone to hell. Had he known the man? Had they been friends? "You know him?”

“Yeah, that's actually me,” Ash sighed. He began to root through the mutants's gore bags. “I was prepping for a speech just before the bombs fell. I think the notes were still in the drawer when I came out of the Vault.”

“Really?” MacCready asked. He peered at the memo again, checking the name. It had never occurred to MacCready to wonder about Ash's name. Ash was just Ash; it was how he introduced himself, it was what he answered to, and it was what most people called him. What more to it was there?

The name on the screen was not 'Ash.' It was... “What the hell kind of name is that? Ass-ee-yell?”

“'Aah' like 'at,'” Ash corrected, a sour twist to his mouth, “sole. Aah sole. Assiel.”

MacCready couldn't help it; he burst into laughter. “So your parents literally named you 'asshole?'” he choked out.

“And this is why I go by 'Ash,'” Ash sighed, shaking his head.

MacCready let his laughter die to chuckles, though he couldn't stop smiling. “You didn't answer my question,” he pointed out.

"There was a question in there?"

“Eat me. What kind of name is that?”

“It's an angel name,” Ash replied. “My mother was very interested in angelic lore, so both my sister and I were named after angels. Assiel is an angel of healing.”

For a moment, MacCready could only blink at Ash. The man did not really embody anything that might be associated with healing. Ash was a fighter; he regularly slaughtered the inhabitants of the Commonwealth, be they human or animal. Sure, he knew a lot about anatomy, could apply Stimpacks like a champ, and even stitch wounds reasonably well, but he was no real healer.

“That's not what I would have expected,” he finally said after a moment.

Ash threw up his hands, sending blood and fleshy bits flying. “There are at least three other healing angels. I know because I checked. She could have picked Ariel, Haniel, or Raphael, but _nooooooooooo-_ ” Ash wiggled his hands sarcastically, “she had to pick the one closest to a profanity. It's like she _wanted_ me to be picked on.”

“Why a healing angel?” MacCready pressed.

“My mother wanted me to be a doctor,” Ash explained. “She told me all through my childhood that I was going to be a brilliant doctor, someday. I would make people feel better, and even invent the cure for cancer.” A rueful smile twisted his lips. “Imagine her disappointment when I became a soldier, instead.” The smile turned fond. “My sister went on to be the doctor, so I guess Mom sort of got what she wanted.”

“What was your sister's name?” MacCready wondered.

“Azrael,” Ash replied. “Named for an angel of death.”

MacCready couldn't help but laugh again. “I'll bet her patients _loved_ that!” he guffawed.

Ash chuckled, nodding. “Most people didn't know what her name meant, but it did freak out a few,” he told MacCready. “Thankfully, she rarely had to give out her first name. 'Dr. Tyler' sounds a lot more professional.” He smirked. “We used to joke that Mom got us wrong because my sister was the healer and I was the soldier. Mom just sniffed and called us ungrateful little shits.”

MacCready couldn't resist. Not like he tried very hard, but he couldn't resist that opening... Duncan would forgive him. It was simply to good to pass up. “Guess you lived up to the asshole bit,” he commented. Ash turned and glared at MacCready.

“I'm going to regret telling you this, aren't I?” he demanded. MacCready just laughed, again. After another moment, he had the urge to return the trust that Ash had displayed in telling him all of this. It was only fair that Ash know his name, too... 

MacCready held out his hand. “Hey, Assiel,” he began. He was proud of how he managed to keep a straight face saying Ash's full name. “Robert Joseph MacCready, at your service.”

Ash stared at him through narrowed eyes. After a moment, Ash took the hand and gave it a firm shake. “Pleasure,” he replied. His lips quirked slightly at the corners, and for some reason that little movement made warmth pool in MacCready's gut. “Can I call you Robby?”

MacCready made a face. “No,” he told Ash.

“How about MacRobby?”

“No.”

“MacRobJoe?”

“Only if I can call you Asshat.”

“Like I haven't heard that one, before.”

“Assbreath.”

“MacGreedy.”

“Butthead!”

“MacScrawny.”

“Oh, _you're_ one to talk, Skinny Ass!”

“Cheeseburger.”

“What the crap? Cheeseburger?”

“Before the bombs fell, there was a restaurant chain called MacDonald's and they sold sandwiches called big macs,” Ash explained. “So you're a cheeseburger. Though, you aren't very big... you can be a mini big mac. Mini Mac.”

MacCready's hand met his forehead. “Dumbass.”

“Eat a bag of dicks! There's only so many puns I can make with your name.”

MacCready just smirked in triumph. “You suck.”

“You wish,” Ash grumbled. “C'mon. Let's go.”

“Lead the way, Ass,” MacCready quipped.

“Don't push your luck, Mini Mac,” Ash shot back.

MacCready snickered as Ash headed for the door. “I can't wait to tell Piper.”

“Oh, fuck you!”

 


	6. Ferals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during 'The Big Dig.' Ash and MacCready follow Bobbi No Nose underground. There are ferals. It doesn't go very well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mel's dialogue when dealing with a male SS suggests that he is homosexual. I took a few liberties with his character to give MacCready more of a reason to gripe.
> 
> Trigger warning for swarming, MacCready's panic, and ghouls. Check the tags, people!

After Ash helped him deal with Winlock and Barnes and their Gunner underlings, MacCready had given back the caps that Ash had paid him for his skills. What Ash had done for him was worth so much more than 250 caps, and so MacCready sworn to follow Ash anywhere he went. Ash was more than happy to have him along. True, Ash rarely went anywhere alone, but it felt like he picked MacCready to go with him more than he did anyone else. Normally, that would make MacCready happy. It was time spent almost alone with Ash; no Piper to bug them about this or that, no Cait to barge in unannounced, no Preston to come to Ash about a settlement that needed help.

However, their current job had them slogging through a semi-wet tunnel that was infested with Mirelurks and the occasional feral ghoul. MacCready's feet were wet, the tunnel was dark, and it smelled horrible. Plus, the way that Mel had been staring at Ash's backside for the past half an hour was making him want to put a bullet in the little man's back. Well, maybe not his back. His foot, though, MacCready wouldn't have minded shooting Mel in the foot.

Though he couldn't exactly blame Mel for his fixation. Ash's ass looked _fantastic_ in that form-fitting jumpsuit.

Retrieving Mel from the Diamond City lockup had been their first task on their list. Ash had done that by waking up a malfunctioning Protectron unit that had proceeded to terrorize the guards. In the confusion, Ash had picked the lock on Mel's cell and gotten him out. They had all met back in Goodneighbor. Mel had seemed taken with Ash almost immediately. As soon as Ash had cooed over Sonya and asked about her modifications, Mel was a goner.

As such, Mel had spent most of their journey flirting with Ash. For his part, Ash seemed oblivious, and _no_ , MacCready was  _not_ jealous, thank you very much. Mel was just annoying. How many times was he going to remark that Ash was  _so_ fit, and  _so_ strong? The ghoul that had hired them, Bobbi No Nose, had assured them that it wasn't much farther, now. Well, thank god for that... if he had to listen to  _one more comment_ about Ash's technique with Betty and how 'good with his hands Ash must be,' MacCready was going to lose it.

MacCready was trying to keep himself from grumbling when they reached a partially caved-in room. Ash burst in first, and his PipBoy lit up enough of the area that MacCready caught sight of a feral ghoul below them. It snarled at them and charged, hands grasping to rip and yank. Ash swung Betty at it and sent it tumbling down the rubble. It landed in a heap, but the noise only served to draw the attention of several other ghouls. They surged up in an ugly, filthy mass, crawling over each other in their haste to get to fresh meat.

Ash stood his ground. He swung with Betty, knocking a couple of the ghouls back. Before he could swing again, the others had darted around their fellows and mobbed him, obscuring him from sight.

“Ash!” MacCready cried. For a moment, all he could hear was the snarl of ferals, Lucy’s screams, and Duncan’s wailing cries. His world narrowed to what he saw through his scope. He wasn't going to lose anyone else like this, not one single person. He aimed and shot, aimed and shot, aimed and shot, again and again. The ferals swarmed over the spot where Ash had been, and only the flash of blue as Ash beat at them let him know that Ash was still alive.

Finally, one fell away and Ash darted through the opening. He lashed out with Betty and another feral crumpled. Only a few left and then Ash would be safe...

And then Ash's PipBoy began to click wildly. A Glowing One crawled out from under a piece of rubble behind Ash, spewing sickly green radiation from its mouth. It leaped up and caught Ash around the shoulders, dragging him back. Ash yelped as he went down, and Betty went flying from his hands. MacCready froze for what couldn't have been longer than a second. It felt like a lifetime. Finally, his body jerked into motion and he poured clip after clip into the radioactive ghoul. He could hear Ash's cries of pain as the radiation the ghoul gave off burned his skin. He could even hear them over the crack of his rifle...

Finally, the ghoul slumped back. MacCready shot forward and seized Ash. He began to drag his friend away from the still-hot corpse, and didn't stop until the tick-tick tick of Ash's Geiger counter ceased.

Ash was a mess. He had radiation burns on his face and hands. The vault suit had protected Ash from radiation, but it did very little against the claw-like hands of the ferals. He was torn and bleeding in several places. “Oh, my god,” MacCready gasped. Now that they were out of immediate danger, his panic was catching up to him He helped Ash sit up. “Oh, my god, are you okay? You're bleeding, dammit, you're hurt, son of a bitch, Ash, are you-”

“Rob!” Ash snapped. He seized MacCready's shoulders and gave him a hard shake. MacCready's babbling cut off instantly. “I will be fine, but I really need some RadAway, or I'm going to puke up my entire stomach.” Rather than retort, MacCready dug in his pack until he found the RadAway Ash always made sure he carried. He got the substance into Ash as fast as he could, watching as the unhealthy pallor of his friend's skin went away. Once Ash had had the RadAway, MacCready administered a Stimpak to the worst of the wounds. It was less than Ash needed, but it was the best they could do until they got somewhere they could rest...

“Rob,” Ash said again after a few minutes. MacCready looked up from his work, trying to ignore just how hard he had to concentrate to keep from shaking. “Rob, I’m all right. I promise. I’m alive, and I’ll be fine.” He reached up and tugged MacCready close enough that MacCready could feel the heat of him. “I’m all right. You’re all right. Everybody’s fine.”

Relief flooded through him, and MacCready allowed himself a moment to sag against Ash. His head fell to rest on his shoulder, and his hands clutched at Ash. One of Ash’s hand slipped into his hair to cradle him gently.

“I…” MacCready gasped, not caring how high and thing his voice sounded. “I saw you go down under that feral and I couldn’t… I thought… it was Lucy all over again.”

“I’m okay,” Ash repeated. “We’re okay, we’re both okay. I’m right here, Mini Mac, right here.”

The nickname poked a hole in his post-panic, allowing him to gather his wits a little. MacCready pushed himself up and away from Ash. “Don’t ever do that again!” he ordered angrily.

“Do my best,” Ash replied. “I don’t like to make a habit of being a feral’s chew toy, after all.”

“You two about done?” Someone drawled. MacCready suddenly remembered that he and Ash weren’t alone. Bobbi and Mel had watched the entire exchange. Bobbi looked bored and wholly unconcerned with the situation. Mel looked a bit disappointed. MacCready felt himself blush as he stood, shouldering his rifle.

“We’re fine,” he said. He hoped his tone would keep anyone from commenting further.

“Good,” Bobbi replied. “Let’s get going, then. We’re getting close. Not much farther, now.” She moved off, Mel following after her. MacCready hauled Ash to his feet and got them both pointed in the right direction. Now that his panic had ebbed away, irritation took its place. Not only was he wet, he was covered in feral ghoul and leftover radiation, and it was still dark and dusty.

Well, at least Mel had quit his flirting. That was something.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a little blown away by how many people are reading this. Thank you so much for coming back, guys! I appreciate it a ton. You lot are my favorites. <3


	7. Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one can remember seeing Ash's face. Cait and MacCready aim to fix that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look, another update! I've had this one written for a while, and I figured I would throw it up before I forgot.

MacCready had never seen Ash without his welding goggles before. It had been months since MacCready had come into Ash's employ. The goggles had remained on, obscuring Ash's eyes. Preston claimed that Ash had been wearing them when he had first appeared making him look like some kind of mad scientist that had escaped his lab. Mama Murphy backed his story up. For the most part, those that were acquainted with him let it be, content to follow after Ash without really questioning.

That is, everyone except Cait.

“You ever seen his whole face?” Cait asked him. The two of them were sitting at the patio table, watching Ash mess around with Preston's laser musket. Cait's eyes were narrowed. He didn't know her as well as he did Ash, but something told him narrowed eyes weren't good for anyone...

“No,” he replied. “Not once.”

“Aren't you curious about why that is?” Cait continued.

“O'course I am,” MacCready replied. He watched as Piper approached Ash with a carrot and a bottle of water. “But that doesn't matter; it's his business. It's not like I can just walk up to him and say, 'Hey, you've never taken your goggles off in front of me, would you mind showing me the goods?'” He made a face. “Even I'm not that crazy.”

“Well, I'm going to get a look,” Cait declared. “Give us a hand, Mac. You know you want to.”

MacCready watched as Piper practically tried to force the carrot down Ash's throat.

“Sure,” he finally agreed. “Why not?” He really hoped he wouldn't regret this. “Got a plan?”

Cait's grin turned a little wild. “Oh, I gots a plan, all right.”

 

* * *

 

“This is a horrible plan,” MacCready said for the hundredth time. He shifted the JunkJet a bit so that he could follow Ash through the scope. Cait's idea was to soak a dish rag in Nuka Cola and shoot it at Ash. It wouldn't hurt him, but it would definitely get him messy. It would also probably force him to remove his goggles to keep them from getting all sticky and gross.

“You got a better idea?” Cait demanded. She was watching through a pair of binoculars. Not like she needed them; they weren't even across the street.

“Unfortunately not,” MacCready muttered.

“Then quit'cher bitchin' an' shoot 'im,” Cait ordered.

“He's facing away,” MacCready pointed out. “He's gotta be looking this way so I can get a clean shot.” Cait let out a frustrated growl and stood.

“Oi, Ash!” she bellowed. Ash turned to look at her. MacCready took the shot. The dish rag went sailing at Ash, splashing Nuka Cola everywhere as it went. It hit Ash square in the face. He flailed for a moment, caught his foot on one of the tools he had been using, and crashed to the ground.

“Crap!” MacCready spat. He abandoned the JunkJet and ran to Ash. He prayed that Ash wasn't hurt; he hadn't meant for Ash to _actually_ be hurt!

“Ash, you okay?!” he demanded, skidding to a stop at Ash's side. Ash pulled the dish rag off of his face and sat up. Cola dripped off of him. It had soaked his hair, his face, and the neck and shoulders of the dirty t-shirt he was wearing.

“What the fuck was that for?!” Ash snarled. MacCready offered a hand to help him up, but Ash slapped it away. He shoved himself to his feet and shook like a dog, Nuka Cola splattering every which way. “What the hell is this? Nuka Cola? Why?!” He wrestled his shirt off and dropped it on the ground, then seized his welding goggles and ripped them off. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to get pop out of your- what the fuck are you staring at?!”

MacCready was staring at Ash. His bare chest was thin; MacCready had been expecting that. What he hadn't been expecting was how well-defined the entirety of Ash's torso was. The whole expanse was hard muscle under pale skin. MacCready's eyes moved up Ash's toned chest to his face, taking in the paler skin around his eyes where the goggles hid him from the sun. And then he got to Ash's eyes themselves and all but fell in and drowned. They were blue-gray, almost ghostly in how pale they were. They added so much to Ash’s expression; where his mouth was an angry line, his eyes flashed with fury. It was fascinating...

“Hello?!” Ash snapped. “Rob! What the fuck were you doing?!”

“Goggles,” MacCready managed to croak.

That brought Ash up short. “What about them?” he demanded.

“You never take 'em off,” MacCready stammered. “We- I wanted to... to see you without 'em.”

Ash's eyes narrowed. He glared at MacCready for a few seconds, which was fine, because MacCready couldn't really look away, anyway. Finally, Ash's shoulders slumped and the anger drained from his face, replaced with annoyance.

“You could have just asked, you know,” Ash deadpanned. He seized a towel and rubbed at his soaked hair, making it stick up crazily.

MacCready shook himself out of his stupor. “And how was I supposed to do that?” he argued. He remembered his earlier conversation with Cait. “I couldn't just walk up to you and say, 'Hey, you've never taken your goggles off where I could see you, mind showing me the goods?'”

“I would have preferred that to your alternate plan,” Ash snorted. He set the towel down and leaned against the workbench. “So... does this mean you're finally gonna make a move?”

MacCready felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. “Ah... what?” he asked dumbly.

“Or, if you're not going to make a move, can I?” Ash continued.

MacCready's mind stumbled over itself as it tried to process that. “What?” he asked again.

Ash gave him a look that was pure unamused disdain. The expression looked odd without Ash's goggles. There was so _much_ in his eyes... “Come on, Rob,” he drawled. “I'm sure you thought you were being subtle with your checking me out, but I did notice.” He smirked. “I'm pretty sure everyone in Sanctuary could tell. _Preston_ even asked me about it, man!”

MacCready tried to think up something to say. He didn't really believe this was happening. It couldn't. “I, uh... I'm not sure- I mean I didn't really-”

Ash rolled his eyes and stepped close. He twisted them so MacCready's back was to the workbench, and trapped him there with his arms. Ash surged up and kissed MacCready insistently. MacCready froze, breath caught in his throat, as his mind tried to catch up. He could feel the warmth of Ash's slender body against his… Ash’s lips were chapped, and he tasted like Nuka Cola.

MacCready’s brain finally got with the program. He began to kiss back, leaning into Ash. Having received a positive response, Ash pressed closer, and MacCready felt his tongue flick at his lips. MacCready let his mouth fall open a little, admitting Ash’s tongue and caressing it with his own. His arms slip around Ash’s shoulders.

They separated after a few more moments to breathe. MacCready looked down into Ash’s eyes. He could hardly believe that this was happening...

“You taste like Nuka Cola,” MacCready panted.

“And whose fault is that?” Ash scoffed. He smirked superiorly. “You’re never living this down, by the way.”

“Shut up,” MacCready muttered.

“Make me,”Ash retorted.

Well, that was a challenge if ever he had heard one. He leaned in and kissed Ash again.

 

[Ash Without Goggles](http://s2.photobucket.com/user/InsaneSeaTurtle/media/20160315002302_1.jpg.html)

[Ash With Goggles](http://s2.photobucket.com/user/InsaneSeaTurtle/media/20160315002513_1.jpg.html)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't think of a better way to force Ash to remove his goggles, so I shamelessly stole the JunkJet idea from Eclecticat's 'Shot Through The Head.' If you haven't read it, already, go do so. It's fabulous. You can find it here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/5438258/chapters/12567092


	8. Sick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash is a horrible patient. This surprises absolutely no one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. Here, have some fluff!

It was inevitable, really. RadAway suppressed the immune system, and Ash had a shitty constitution to begin with. Ash regularly tromped through the Commonwealth and waded through places infested with who-knew-what kind of filth, so MacCready was not surprised when Ash got sick. In fact, he was surprised it hadn’t happened already. 

When it finally did happen, Ash refused to stay in bed. MacCready honestly couldn’t blame him. He himself hated being confined to a bed, especially when he had work to do. However, Ash seemed to crank that sentiment up to eleven. MacCready wondered why he was even surprised. Ash was stubborn and surly in nearly everything he did; why would being sick be any different? And so, despite a wet cough, chills, aches, and a fever, Ash still tried to get out of bed and work.

The companions took turns chasing him away from the workbench or the garden or any of the other projects currently going on in Sanctuary. Curie fussed over him, which didn’t help at all. Ash hated being fussed over, and not even Curie’s sweet insistence that he should rest and keep hydrated could change that. Codsworth knew his master’s habits and didn’t bother to fuss. He simply appeared with a bottle of purified water every so often and guilt-tripped Ash into drinking it. Deacon kept showing up with blankets and somehow always managed to convince Ash to wrap himself up in one. MacCready had always been wary of Deacon’s silver tongue, but he had to admit it was pretty effective in this case...

Having a fever combined with Ash's normal resistance to eating meant that he lost weight quickly. Ash didn't really have much weight to lose, so Piper made vegetable soup and tried to get Ash to eat. Unbeknownst to her, Cait had drugged the soup in an effort to get Ash to sleep. While it did have that effect, Ash then refused to eat or drink anything Cait or Piper gave him if he hadn’t watched them prepare it or open it. His refusal only made Piper and Cait try harder to get Ash to eat. The harder they tried, the harder Ash resisted. The vicious cycle continued until Codsworth decided that neither Piper nor Cait were helping and politely requested that they bugger off.

Of them all, Preston had the best luck. He sat Ash down with a cup of tea (that Ash had watched him make) and began to talk. He droned on and on about the plans for various settlements, the supply lines, and the troop movements. It put Ash right to sleep. Preston had just smirked triumphantly and tucked one of Deacon’s blankets around Ash.

Unfortunately, that trick didn’t always work; even Preston couldn’t talk about troop movements forever. That day, after the third time in as many hours that Ash had escaped, MacCready decided it was time to play the boyfriend card and snuggle the hell out of Ash until the man fell asleep. He got to the house Ash slept in just as the mad bastard was trying to leave yet again. MacCready planted himself in front of the door. “Nope,” he stated. “You’re sick.”

“I am fine,” Ash insisted. A cough exploded out of him and Ash slumped against the door frame for a second.

“You are not,” MacCready told him once he was finished. “Your eyes are bloodshot and you’re paler than Cait. You’ve lost at least ten pounds and you can’t stand upright. You’re not okay.”

“C’mon, Rob,” Ash groaned. He shuffled to the side, trying to move around MacCready. MacCready just stepped over a bit and blocked him again.

“No,” MacCready replied. “Back in bed.”

“I have too much shit to do,” Ash argued. He gestured impatiently at MacCready. “Move.” 

MacCready shook his head, narrowing his eyes. “That you are telling me to move and not just, y’know,  _ moving me _ , lets me know just how messed up you are,” he told his boyfriend. He took a step forward, forcing Ash to shuffle back and out of the way. “You are sick. There aren’t many things that need to be done when you look like you’re ready to fall over and die.” Ash glared at him. “Yeah, keep making that face, you aren’t fooling anyone. Now get your butt back to bed!” He pushed Ash further into the house and began herding him towards the bedroom. 

“Good grief, you’re worse than Az was,” Ash sighed.

“If you go out like this, you’re gonna get yourself killed,” MacCready pointed out. “Survival is the goal, here.” He poked and prodded at Ash until they reached the bedroom. MacCready shoved Ash onto the bed. “Boots off, c’mon.” Ash grumbled again, but didn’t argue. The lack of fight just confirmed how sick Ash was all over again.

“Want me to tuck you in?” MacCready offered.

“You’re a damn menace,” Ash stated. MacCready could see Ash’s body trembling. “Why do I keep you around, agai-” He was interrupted by a coughing fit that had him curling in on himself. MacCready gritted his teeth in worry.

“Because you adore me,” MacCready retorted once the fit had quieted. He kicked off his own boots and shucked off his coat and hat. He then slipped in behind Ash and tugged him close. Some maneuvering had the covers pulled over them. Once that was finished, MacCready wrapped himself around Ash, keeping him firmly in place.

“You’re overreacting,” Ash said again. “I’m  _ fine _ .” Despite Ash’s insistence, he burrowed deeper into MacCready’s arms, shivering a bit.

“Keep telling yourself that.” MacCready didn’t like how labored Ash’s breathing sounded. “Now shut yer yap and sleep. It’ll make you feel better.” He slid one of his hands up Ash’s back and into his hair, running his fingers through the strands. Immediately, Ash relaxed against him.

“Dammit,” Ash mumbled. “That’s cheating.”

“Not cheating,” MacCready countered. “Playing creatively.” He kept up the movement until Ash’s breathing evened out. A few minutes later, Codsworth appeared with a sealed bottle of purified water. He set it on the table next to the bed.

“Mr. MacCready,” the robot began quietly, “could you please make sure Sir drinks that when he wakes up?”

“You got it,” MacCready promised. With a gentle hiss of air and rattle of metallic limbs, Codsworth left the room. MacCready curled a bit more tightly around Ash and settled in to wait.

**Author's Note:**

> No beta, so if you see typos, please let me know. Also, if you have recommendations for tags or trigger warnings, please say so. :)


End file.
